


Details of Silver

by Deannie



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: 3K Round-up Challenge, Anal Sex, M/M, Supermagnificent AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 11:47:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7169726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deannie/pseuds/Deannie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Come on, Ezra,” Chris pleaded grumpily, because he was lit up by the man's very presence, but this was really not the time. “It’s too damn hot to do anything right now.”</p><p> </p><p>Ezra straddled him with a smile that boded no good. Or all the good in the world. “I can help with that, as well.” And he put a fingertip to Chris’s chest and wrapped the digit in silver.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Details of Silver

**Author's Note:**

> Part of the Supermagnificent AU

In August of 1847, the temperature in San Cardana, Tejano, reached 108 degrees. Five of his soldiers died of heatstroke in the space of a couple of days, and a dozen more were sick enough from it to be useless for more than a week until the temperature finally started to fall.

Chris Larabee was sure it hadn’t felt as hot as this. But he’d had thirty years to forget, so maybe it had.

Whatever the case, he was sprawled on his bed in the middle of the day, much like half of Four Corners, probably. There was just no other place to be. Well, unless you were Vin Tanner, in which case your hollow bones didn’t feel the heat like the rest of the world—and if you did, you could always take wing and fly off to the foothills where it was cooler. Damn bird.

Or you were Ezra Standish, he thought a little bitterly, as the scent of burnt silver wafted in from the hallway. Chris didn’t bother moving as the young gambler opened the door without knocking and slid inside. It was even too hot to open his eyes. 

Not that Ezra seemed to notice. He was from the South, so Chris could understand a little extra resistance to the heat, but it was like it never fazed him at all. Like the freezing silver inside him kept him cool, whether he wrapped himself in it or not.

“I’m not sure if you’re asleep or awake,” Ezra whispered, settling himself on the edge of the bed. “Though either way, I shouldn't disturb you. The view is spectacular.”

Chris groaned in annoyance. Yes, he was in his drawers and nothing else. He’d damn well boil if he wore anything more.

“If I open my eyes, are you gonna be all done up in your fancies?” he asked rudely, though the sound of simple cloth over skin didn’t sound like he was to Chris’s hypersensitive ears. “Because that might lead to violence.”

“I promise I’m attired more in keeping with the weather,” Ezra said, still in that soft, mocking tone.

Chris cracked an eyelid. Stared a moment. Opened both eyes in surprise.

Not at Ezra’s clothes—though there was something about seeing him in just a linen shirt and plain pants that could do things to a man—but at the two mugs the gambler held. There was a sheen of frost to them and they seemed to be literally smoking coldness into the heated air.

“How the hell did you do that?” Chris asked, sitting up and taking one of the almost painfully cold mugs into his hands.

“One of the many uses of silver,” Ezra proclaimed smugly. His voice went gentle, almost yearning. “You haven’t been in the saloon, so I thought I would bring the saloon to you.”

Chris smirked and sipped at the beer. Damn, he’d never drunk beer cold like this! It was  _ good _ ! He looked at Ezra in that linen shirt he almost never wore, looked at the way his chest was nearly visible through it because he wasn’t wearing an undershirt either, the way his pants hugged him in all the right places. Chris sipped his beer again. “You damn sure brought the two best parts,” he said appreciatively.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Ezra murmured, taking Chris’s mug back and setting it and his own on the table beside the bed. He leaned in and kissed Chris far too thoroughly, given the temperature.

Chris groaned again as his drawers grew uncomfortable. “Come on, Ezra,” he pleaded grumpily, because he  _ was _ lit up by the man's very presence, but this was really not the time. “It’s too damn hot to do anything right now.”

Ezra shoved him hard so he lay back on the bed, and straddled him with a smile that boded no good. Or all the good in the world. “I can help with that, as well.” And he put a fingertip to Chris’s chest and wrapped the digit in silver.

When Chris was at the medical facility in Illinois, they had a cold room for keeping medicines and such. And every once in awhile, during the hottest part of the year, they’d cut little chunks off some of the giant ice blocks that kept it cool. They’d use them for chilling drinks, and for eating, and occasionally for running across your skin if it got too hot. It could be damn satisfying.

Not a tenth as satisfying, though, as the sensual circles Ezra’s ice-cold finger was drawing on Chris’s boiling skin. He just closed his eyes and let the gambler have his way, as Ezra slowly, tortuously, spread the silver to all the fingers on that hand, then to the other hand, both of them constantly roaming. Chris finally opened his eyes and saw a sight that made him... Well, it should have been less of a turn-on than it was.

Ezra’s arms were invisible up to the shoulders, but even queer and wrong as that was, Chris somehow knew exactly what they looked like right this second. The two men hadn’t been spending their private time together for long, but he  _ had _ been with Ezra often enough to know the ripples of muscle under his clothes, the play of tendons as those talented hands worked. And right now, everywhere Ezra’s hands worked, his freezing silver left trails of condensation on Chris’s skin. They appeared as if by magic, signs of attention and hunger.

It was, by far, the most erotic thing Chris had experienced in a damn long time. His dick was decidedly of the same opinion, and Ezra chuckled as it tented Chris’s drawers just behind Ezra’s ass where the younger man sat on his hips.

“I thought it was too damn hot to do anything, Mr. Larabee,” he all but cooed. God damn tease, was what Ezra Standish was.

Chris shoved up to sitting, shifting Ezra so that his ass crack was firmly on top of Chris’s erection—wonderfully painful though that was—and kissed him even more thoroughly than Ezra had him just minutes ago. “I die of heat stroke, It's on your head,” he promised.

Ezra sucked in a desperate breath as Chris took one hand and slid it between them, putting a firm pressure between those teasing legs. “It’s…. hardly hot enough for that,” he murmured.

“I aim to make it a little hotter,” Chris replied, using his own talented hands to quickly unbutton and slide off Ezra’s shirt. The silver fell away with it, and Ezra sat there bare-chested and sweating. Too damn  _ delectable _ for words.

Chris spent his own slow moments kissing along Ezra’s shoulders and up his neck, holding his hips down so Ezra had nowhere to go, and could neither escape Chris’s rock hard condition nor make use of it. There was something to be said for thirty extra years of experience, and Chris used a fair amount of that knowledge now, until Ezra was about to come without even getting naked.

Which wouldn’t do at all, so Chris stopped his fun and rolled Ezra to lay him face up on the bed. 

“Now wait a minute,” Ezra said, that con man thick in a voice full of arousal. He was expecting to be fucked, and clearly hadn’t been looking for that. “I didn’t say I wanted to—”

Chris smiled ferally, watching the effect the expression had on Ezra before he stood up and shucked off his drawers, then grabbed Ezra’s pants and drawers and got rid of those, too. Ezra’s cock was weeping, so damn ready...

“I know exactly what you want,” Chris promised, sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over to kiss Ezra stupid. He raised him up at the shoulders, shoving the pillows behind him for the best angle. “You better have come prepared, though, cause I ain’t got any more.”

Ezra reached over to the table and took hold of a jar Chris hadn’t even noticed there. Chris reached out, eager to take it, but Ezra raised his free hand to stop him. 

“One moment,” he said, and Chris watched the jar in fascination as a hoar of frost came over the outside of it. With a scofflaw’s grin, Ezra offered the jar. “It  _ is _ hot, after all.”

Chris took it and dipped his fingers into the wonderfully cool gel, snorting. “Lord, Ezra, you never stop surprising me.”

“One of my central aims in life,” Ezra admitted, reaching up his hands again to start roaming over Chris’s body and driving him wild. He only wrapped the tips of his fingers in silver this time, so Chris was free to watch the muscles bunch and roll under his skin. The freezing cold of Ezra’s fingers combined with the warmer chill of the grease on his own made Chris sit back and regain his bearings, much to Ezra’s dismay.

At least until Chris started smearing the grease on Ezra’s cock. Then the younger man writhed and stretched and… Hell, Chris nearly came himself right there.

But that wasn’t part of the plan. Instead, once Ezra was good and lubed—and hard as a rock—Chris handed him back the grease and climbed onto the bed to kneel on either side of Ezra’s chest. Damn good thing he had a big bed. Might as well make use of it.

Ezra’s fingertips came visible and he reached into the jar, but he seemed to be a little distracted by Chris’s erection so near his face. The devil came into his eyes just then, and Chris frowned at him. “Time for that later,” he promised. 

With a pout, Ezra reached between Chris's legs, forcing Chris to lean back and brace himself on his hands, and began prodding and stretching and generally pushing Chris to the brink as he prepared him to be fucked. Chris was shuddering with the need to come by the time Ezra had him ready but he held on and slowly, gently, lowered himself down and impaled himself on Ezra’s cock.

After they’d got together the first time—which was all passion and fucking and not so much careful as desperate—Ezra had been… forthright… about what he liked. He liked being on the receiving end just fine, but when he was the one in charge, he liked being ridden.

Thanks to Erskine's engineering, Chris wasn’t your normal fuck, though. His bones were denser and his muscles stronger and riding a man from on top took a fair amount of restraint so he wouldn’t hurt him. Ezra had walked funny for a day and more that first morning after, and the bruises from being ground into the hay took a while to heal.

So this time Chris went a little slower. A little easier. The two of them slid into sync with almost ridiculous ease, Ezra reaching up to run those freezing hands over Chris’s thighs and belly and chest, bucking up against him and hitting that spot that had sparks going across Chris’s vision. Ezra was enjoying himself just as much, of course. Chris could hear it in the tiny, needy whimpers he let out every time ass cheeks met crotch, feel it when fingers clenched hard to keep him from going over the edge too quickly. Chris tried not to lose himself too much in the sheer feel of the other man inside him. Not so much that the gambler would regret this come morning. 

But it didn’t take much, after the playing around and the heat and the silver, for the two of them to come hard and satisfying, one right after the other. Chris knelt up and let that talented dick slide out, reluctant as hell to feel the separation. Ezra’s eyes were closed, and his smile was vacant and lazy and so damn gorgeous Chris had to kiss it all over again.

He finally lowered himself down, balancing on his elbows to keep from squashing Ezra flat, and kissed him some more. But the heat and the sex and the damn fact of midsummer in the desert made him roll off so he was on his side, hand on Ezra’s chest that now fiercely needed cleaning. Ezra hadn’t moved since he came, aside from a lazy enthusiasm as Chris plundered his mouth, but now he reached up his own hand and coated his palm in silver, using it to run along Chris’s hand and arm, cooling at least that little bit of him down.

“Damn fine way to spend an afternoon,” Chris murmured, feeling himself start to doze. He wanted to know things first, though, and Ezra didn’t talk much about himself or this thing he had.

"How’d you get so much control?” Chris didn't know many people who were different like them who could be so damn precise about it, no matter what the gift they had.

The question froze Ezra for a second, and his answer was one of those storybook answers he always gave. The ones that made Chris wish he knew the truth. “I have always been a diligent student,” he said, turning on his side to face Chris and running a hand lightly over his sweaty chest. “All it takes is practice.”

His eyes were squinting, though, and Chris suddenly realized it wasn’t from the sunlight pouring in on them. He wondered if maybe the tiny details of silver didn’t cost Ezra more than just wrapping himself in the stuff wholesale.

“Reckon you might have overdid it for today,” he said gently, capturing Erza’s hands in his own and shaking them until Ezra let the silver fall. "You like Nathan? Takes more out of you to be complicated?"

Ezra laughed, his visible hands still roaming. "I'd never looked at sex as a particularly complicated act," he replied. His voice abruptly dropped, uncertain but striving for blithe indifference. "I hadn't really thought you did either."

There was a question there that Chris didn't know the answer to. This thing between them wasn’t love, but it was good. Good and safe and just what they both needed. Maybe.

But how complicated was it?

The connection they had—the connection they all had—it changed things. they were all bound together somehow. And he felt more for this crazy man in particular than he'd felt for anyone in a long time...

"Reckon it's as complicated as we want to make it," Chris said finally. He leaned over and kissed Ezra, gently this time, hoping to say something tender and important without using the words that seemed to mean so little once they were out of his mouth.

Ezra smiled something at him that Chris couldn't read, and he suddenly wanted to be Buck. For a second. 

Then the smile was gone and a smirk was in its place, and Ezra's hand snaked out and ghosted over Chris's dick. He breathed appreciatively as Chris began to harden again. 

Chris let the discussion go, because Ezra clearly wanted him to, and kissed him a little harder. "There are benefits to the serum, too," he whispered, teasing against too hot lips.

"I read once that carnal pursuits are beneficial for headaches and such," Ezra said quietly, grabbing proper hold of Chris and squeezing, chuckling against Chris's throat when the older man groaned. "Shall we test it?"

Chris took hold of the jar of grease, warmer now with the endless heat. He didn't remark on it—didn't think Ezra really cared right now. “You sure you’re up to it?” Chris asked seriously. He’d seen Ezra after he used too much silver. It sort of made you want to either hold him to you until he passed out or shoot him and put him out of his misery.

“As long as you are,” Ezra said rolling onto his other side and baring his ass. “You’re the one wanting to cool down, after all.”

Chris had a fleeting thought that the position Ezra was choosing meant something, but he wouldn’t talk if Ezra didn’t want him to. Instead, he dipped a finger into the grease and set it at the edge of Ezra’s opening, teasing his way in as slow as could be.

“It ain’t so hot,” he said softly, kissing Ezra’s neck with all tenderness of a lover, even if they weren’t quite that yet. “And I can’t think of a better way to spend a day.”

And the day wore far into night before the two men left his bed.

********   
the end


End file.
